


Oggi il paradiso costa la metà

by Stria (Asia117)



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: (kinda), A Mess overall, Evakteket Challenge, Italy, M/M, Panic Attacks, Summer, Supernatural Elements, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12069738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asia117/pseuds/Stria
Summary: The first thing that Isak realises upon waking up, is that he’s alone.(Or, Isak spends his summer hols in southern Italy, where Noora lives. Magic ensues.)





	Oggi il paradiso costa la metà

**Author's Note:**

> Uh okay so. This was supposed to be something different, but I'm living a weird anxiety period, and on top of that my laptop refused to come alive for a bit, so I had to make this story into what it is: A Mess.
> 
> The prompt I got was: get together (because how can I not like nooreva), soulmates, summer. I added the supernatural elements because I do love writing the kollektivet, and I also... hate the soulmates trope with a passion. So much that here you can see a hint of it, but the whole thing that happens _because_ Isak and Even are soulmates is... never explained in-verse. Lmao, I know, I know.
> 
> Also: this story is literally set up in places I know, and I want it to be a sort of... celebration of my summers, or something like that. It's an awful place where to grow up when you're a queer kid, but I go back to it with pleasure. And there's the sea. If you've been there, it shouldn't be difficult to recognise. 
> 
> Title taken from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cycKV8o0eZ8) by Gabbani, who is the moral winner of Eurovision hsut up.
> 
> Enjoy the mess!

**i**

Isak hates travelling.

He hates it more than anything else in the world, because he needs to pack and to remember everything he might need during the days he’s away, and then he needs to wake up early and waste a day on a train, or on a ship, or on a plane, and then he’s in a place he doesn’t know with people he doesn’t know who speak a language he doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know and eat shitty things.

“You’re not really that self-conceited,” says Even. Isak sighs.

_Right, but also I really didn’t want to make this trip_ , he thinks. He can feel Even smile. _I don’t like that we’re so far from Å, and I don’t like the heat_.

Even laughs, this time. “Sure, Å is a quaint little town and they leave us alone, but honestly I needed this change of scenario.”

Isak just sighs again. He feels Even touching his hair, carefully, and leans a bit into the touch. _I’m sorry I’m so grouchy_. When he looks at Even, he sees him a bit translucent; when he’s alone he’s able to look at him no problems, but when he’s stressed, closing his eyes is what works best.

“It will all be okay, and we’ll have fun. The place looks so good anyway.”

Italy. They’re going to Italy. They’re leaving the midnight sun and the liminal zone that comes when everybody’s asleep but there’s still light to go into the humid heat and enjoy mosquito bites, cicada screeches and not being able to cover even a centimetre of skin. Cool, cool, cool.

If pressed, Isak might admit that it has been his idea at least a little. Not that he needs a change of scenario—he chose Å as soon as he was able to leave his house, and he chose it because it’s enough up north that it’s small, and living at the outskirt of the village means nobody takes the initiative and comes to talk to you. No, he needs to make that trip because of a fucking ingredient, because cedar as a plant was powerful in chasing away bad presences, and he needs it to mix it with lavender and to make a smudging wand, because his house seems to be shaken up lately, and he’s trying everything to get it back to normality. He tried asking Noora to ship it to him, but she refused because, in her words, _you never come see us_ , and he couldn’t make her change her mind.

Not his fault that Noora decided she got Janara aspirations and moved, honestly, not his fault at all. She always told him it was fun and she would never go back to Norway, and Eva was so happy too, and he should see for himself. Which Isak was exactly about to do.

Isak met Noora back when he was still in Oslo, because she became great friends with Jonas, and they hung out together fairly often. She loved Southern Europe since the year-long trip in Spain she did with her parents, and it was just logical that she wanted to practice there. Isak could understand.

What he _can’t_ understand is the fact that Noora’s so dead set on him going to find her, especially knowing that between the two, she’s the one with a penchant for travelling, and she’s the one coming back to Norway from time to time, to meet all her old friends.

(She’s been at Isak’s too, with Eva. _Solitary_ , she commented upon arriving. _Don’t you have a familial?_ Isak did, and Noora met Blackje a couple minutes later, when she started meowing insistently because she wanted food. She and Blackje hit off, and Isak couldn’t help feeling a bit betrayed by his own familial for the duration of Noora’s visit.)

The worst thing about this trip is that there is not even a direct link between the places where they live. Isak had to travel to Oslo to take the plane to Rome, and then he had to take two trains to get down south, because the public transportation _sucked_.

The first train was still somewhat comfortable, but then he had to change because, to quote Noora again, _high-speed only gets you to Salerno, I’m sorry_ , and this one he’s on right now looks like something out of the second world war; there’s no air conditioned, no assigned seats, and Isak’s scared of getting salmonella just because he’s seated here.

“Oh my god, it’s just an old train, and we’re almost there anyway.” Even might have rolled his eyes, Isak doesn’t know.

 

When he gets off the train, it’s on a minuscule station with only four rail tracks, and Eva is there, hair pulled up with a big hairgrip, wearing just a short sundress and sandals, and looking incredibly freckled for mid-June. She smiles big when she sees him. “Ike, finally!”

Isak allows himself a smile. He’s tired and cranky, and he wants to get home, but he’s happy to see Eva looking so relaxed. “How’s going?”

She helps him with his suitcase. “Pretty good, actually. The figs have started early, and Noora is in full cooking season.” She puts his suitcase in the trunk of her car—a small silver _Peugeot_ —and gestures for him to get in. “She’s been doing a lot of jams, and she wants to try and make dry figs. She did the same with strawberries and wants to do the same with peaches. We’ll be drowning in jams and preserves I guess.”

Isak laughs. “She’s always been a bit obsessed with healthy eating, right?” He doesn’t remember a time in which she wasn’t. She never went full vegan, and she told him she didn’t want to, but her meat consumption was really low nonetheless.

“Living in the countryside surely helped with that,” Eva says. “And I’m not opposed to finding organic delicacies on my table.”

“Who would,” says Even, and Isak smiles again.

The roads are small, steep, and full of hairpin turns, and Eva drives a bit too fast for Isak’s liking. “Like a true local rallyist,” he comments, and she just laughs.

“Gets easier every time you drive, and after a bit you don’t even notice it,” she says.

“It’s still scary as fuck, does Noora know you drive like this?”

Eva rolls her eyes. “She sent me to the station because I’m the careful driver, mind you.”

“If you want to kill me so I can’t go back to Å, just tell me.”

“Yep, that’s exactly the intention,” Eva says. She stops in front of a white gate, waiting for it to open and then getting into a small driveway. “We want you to be buried on our land.”

The actual yard is quite small: there’s a paved space between the driveway and the house, with a table and a few chairs and two cats lazying around. The rest is a big terraced garden, with space for fruit trees. And, beyond that, the panorama is amazing. Isak can see the sea and all the gulf; sunsets must be pretty amazing from here.

“It’s a whole hectare, can you believe I get to make almost everything I consume? And I got a bergamot tree!” Noora hugs him from behind, and Isak squeezes her hands. “And everything tastes so much better here than it ever did in Oslo.”

Isak turns in her arms, gives her a big hug. “I was more taken by the panorama, honestly,” he says, and she laughs.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” she whispers in his ear. “You can’t even begin to imagine how much.”

Isak think he can.

For as much as he hates travelling, being in such an amazing place with Noora of all people makes him want to settle down here, and never leave again. Well, maybe the fact that it will be another day of travelling to get back to Å has something to do with it, but still.

Isak had a lot of friends before deciding life in Oslo wasn’t really his thing, and they still come to see him in Å, and he still skypes with them regularly, but no one is like Noora. Noora is the only one who’s like Isak, who has the Spark, and even if he doesn’t really have secrets with his close friends, his experience is still difficult to understand for them, for as much as they’re supportive.

This is why they hit off, him and Noora. She was alone too, and they recognised each other, and the last couple of years that Isak spent in Oslo were the best he spent in that city, that’s for sure.

“Come inside, Eva must have put your suitcase in the guest room, and I made an _aperitivo_ so we can watch the sunset before eating dinner.” She takes his hand and guides him inside.

It’s a quaint small villa, the furniture a mix of Provence and nautical style, in various blue hues. Isak recognises an embroidery Eva made when she took that class back in high school, with a cross-stitched lavender vase and a teapot. “It’s a beautiful house,” he comments, and he wonders when did he grow up so much that the comment doesn’t taste like pleasantries.

“Probably somewhere after high school, let’s face it,” says Even, and Noora makes a face.

“There’s someone here?” she asks, and she looks around. “Your thoughtform?”

Isak nods.

“Uh, well then.” She looks a bit awkward, but she powers through it nonetheless. “Hi Even, please don’t bother the cats or I’ll make Isak clean their messes with his tongue.”

Isak feels Even laughing. “Hi Noora, this is a very nice threat but I can’t make promises.”

“He says hi back, and he says he can’t make promises.” He makes a face. “Of course he can’t since I’m the one in trouble.”

“I wish there was something I could make him do, honestly.” Noora shakes her head. “We’ll see at Solstice, he should be careful.”

 

They have a glass of sparkly white with a shared plate of figs, walnuts and _prosciutto crudo_ on the terrace, looking at the sunset. Everything is tinted in orange and pink hues, and the sea has never looked so beautiful. Isak relaxes on the chair, looking at the gulf coast in the distance. The air smells nice, a bit less hot than before, and there’s a mosquito spiral burning, so they’re protected.

“So, about the cedar,” Noora starts expectantly. Isak looks at her. “I have arranged for us to pick it up at Solstice like you requested. Do you have everything you need to pick it up?”

Isak nods. “I’ll need your knife because I couldn’t take mine with me, but otherwise everything is here, don’t worry.”

Eva snorts. “It would have been funny seeing you trying to explain that at the airport.” She parrots Isak’s voice. “‘Nooo officer, I sweeear, it’s just for shooow’.”

“You think you’re so funny.” Isak takes a fig. It’s a sweet delicacy. “You’re really, really not.”

“I’d say she is, honestly,” Even intervenes. He looks almost fully corporeal now, because Isak relaxed, and is sitting on the terrace fence, looking at the sunset. “Trying to explain a ritual knife to the check in dude would have been funny nonetheless, though.”

_Oh my god I don’t even want to think about it_.

“I’m the funniest person on earth,” says Eva. “Right, honey?”

Noora smiles and kisses her for so long that Isak has to stop looking. They never really grow out of the embarrassing PDA phase. “You’re the funniest in the universe, babe,” she comments.

Isak shrugs. “I don’t accept biased opinions, just so you know.”

 

Isak didn’t really mean to create a thoughtform. It just happened, and it happened when he was too young to control his Spark anyway. He doesn’t really remember a moment when Even wasn’t there, he just stayed way past his imaginary friends phase, and never really went away, and after a while it just seemed strange being alone in his own head.

Even’s image, that was definitely on purpose. He was a visual person, and though he didn’t mind talking to a voice in his own head, he wanted to talk to someone he could see, and he wanted to try visual imposition.

He started small, eyes closed, trying to visualise random stuff, with Even—still a voice in his mind—waiting patiently for him to visualise a shaky green apple before telling him how he would like to be made (“Listen, I am taller than you, I _feel_ taller than you, and like, can I have blonde hair? And—are you trying to make me _lanky_?!”), and now he was there, always mostly corporeal, sometimes just a blurry silhouette, but always there as soon as Isak closes his eyes.

It’s good, and it means that Isak never feels alone, not even in Å, where he doesn’t really talk to anybody.

He doesn’t know what he would do without Even’s comforting presence in his head.

 

**ii**

They go to the beach the next day. It’s the hottest Isak has ever experienced, and there’s a lot of stairs to make to get to the beach (“Please enjoy the panorama now, because it’s your only chance to really appreciate it without the dread that comes with the knowledge of what it means going back up with the stairs,” says Eva), but the result is amazing. A small beach surrounded by rocks and almost empty waits for them, and there’s no other sound than the cicadas singing, because the sea’s so calm that’s unmoving.

“The mountain goes straight into the sea, so you don’t really have long beaches, just small _calette_ like this one.” Noora puts the beach umbrella in the sand, and they seat themselves under its shade. Isak gets a bottle of 50+ SPF sun cream thrown at him. “Please, roll yourself in it, or you’re going to regret it.”

Isak obliges.

“This is almost what the paradise looks like,” says Even, and Isak smiles.

_It’s pretty good_ , he admits, and he feels Even going into tease mode. _I still miss Å, don’t be stupid_.

“Of course, mister I-hate-travelling-with-a-passion, this is not going to affect you, don’t worry. I was talking about myself.” Isak closes his eyes, relaxing on the towel, and sees Even raising his eyebrows. “Just leave me here, you can go back to Å all alone.”

_I wonder how I should achieve that, honestly_. Even scratches his chin and shrugs. _You’re literally part of my mind._

“I’m my own conscience though, I could just attach to Noora with the right spell, maybe.”

Isak snorts. _Yeah I want to see you two interacting, please. She would kill you first thing_.

“I’ll tell her you said that about her as soon as I’m in her mind.” Even smiles and raises his eyebrows again. “Then she would kill _you_ first thing.”

_Let’s be real here, she would probably agree with me. And she values her privacy with Eva_. Having Even in his mind at all time had made his—rare—sexual encounters really awkward until Even had learnt how to make himself unnoticeable. But the first times, having him comment on everything was bad, to say the least. Even worse than when Isak discovered masturbation.

“Oh my god, I already told you I’m sorry for Anders!” Even moves his arms in grand gestures to prove his point. “He wasn’t that great anyway.”

He really wasn’t, but Isak was just looking for a hook-up at the time, not a partner. _That’s still no excuse_ , he thinks, but he makes sure to smile a bit, so Even knows he doesn’t really think about it anymore.

The water is warm when Isak enters, even is Eva assures him that it’s freezing in June, he should see in August. Isak is not a swimming person, not in Å, but here the heat is so suffocating that the only solace is in the water. He swims for a bit, as clumsily as he is, to get a better look around, towards the mountain; the colours are amazing, and the sky is so blue it almost hurts the eyes, and the white of a solitary statue with open arms is a stark contrast against it.

He’s lost in contemplation and doesn’t notice Eva coming to dunk his head in the water, but he puts wet sand in her hair in retaliation, and she’ll be finding it during the shampoo for like two weeks, so it’s okay.

Noora made a lot of aubergine patties ( _polpette di melanzane_ , she called them) and watermelon for them to eat on the beach, and Isak starts eating early, when Eva and Noora are still in the water, because his stomach is still up north and doesn’t think about 14 as a proper lunch time, but he waits for them to eat watermelon together, as a snack, around 15.

“Everything is a bit slower and a bit later, here,” he comments, and Eva smiles.

“It is, which is why it’s so cool, honestly.”

(Going back up the stairs after a day of sun is akin to torture and hell, and Isak swears he won’t go back to the beach, not if he can help it.

Eva and Noora let out a wheeze that once upon a time was a laugh, but don’t contradict him.)

 

The cedar is more powerful if he’s the only one touching it, and even more powerful if he picks it during the night of the solstice, when his Spark is the strongest, and he can feel the energy of the Earth thrumming in his vein.

They go together, him and Noora, after a very satisfying dinner of chicken breasts with plums, leaving Eva behind with the cats. Isak would be good alone, but the place is forty minutes by car, and Noora knows the person that grows cedars, and she asked him for a personal favour, so she has to be there.

(“Ah, _Nora_!” is the greeting he has for her, and Noora bristles a bit upon hearing her name pronounced like that, but doesn’t say anything.

“Ciao, Paolo,” she says instead. “Ti devo un favore.”

“Ti chiederò una delle tue marmellate, stanne sicura!” He looks gentle and hushers them towards the back of his house, where the cedar trees are. “Scegliete pure quello più bello,” he says. “I rabbini non verranno per un altro mese e mezzo.”)

It’s strange, and it’s like being back in high school: Noora and him all together in an enclosed space, preparing the instruments for the ritual, Even hovering behind his back. “I missed this,” he murmurs, and he doesn’t want to speak louder because he feels frizzy and about to explode because of all the energy passing through him.

“Me too,” answers Noora, quietly. “There’s so much power in having a coven, you know.”

Isak knows. Isak is also someone who doesn’t want to work with a bunch of people he doesn’t know or trust. And he doesn’t like people at all, like, being around them; it’s why he decided to move to Å. “I like working with you period,” he says.

“Well, we’re still not a company but we can very well be a coven.” Noora carves protection runes into the wooden box where Isak will put the cedar. “Doesn’t have to be something traditional.”

“We were a coven, in high school,” Isak objects. “And if it doesn’t have to be something traditional, we can still be a displaced coven.”

Noora chuckles and shakes her head. “You got me here,” she murmurs, carving the final rune. “All done.”

Her handiwork has always been the best, and that’s another thing that Isak missed.

It would be nice having someone to work with at all times, he’s not going to lie, and it would be nice trusting someone like he trusts Noora with everything magic. It would be nice if more than one friend had the Spark. Not like Even is not the best company he could ever wish for, but he can’t exactly carve runes like Noora does, or help him with rituals and charms.

He’ll have to do with what he has, anyway.

 

“Everything okay?” asks Noora, gaze on the road. Isak shrugs.

“Just thinking about the niceness of doing this kind of things with someone.”

Noora purses her lips and doesn’t talk for a while, concentrated on driving. She goes faster than Eva did, especially in the bit of the road that’s all hairpin turns and you can’t see anything because of the rocks running along the road. Isak tries to distract himself, watches the moon that’s a smile in the night sky, and enjoys the fresh air coming from the windows, after a day of absolute, torturing heat.

“It’s was nice when we were both in Oslo,” Noora says quietly, and Isak hears the unasked question behind her words. _Would you have stayed if I had?_

“It was,” he says. “And it would have been easy to keep it like it was. But do you remember how we were in high school, Noor?” Noora sighs.

She was still battling with her creeping eating disorder, on-and-off with her ex-boyfriend, who abused her in almost every possible way, and battling internalised homophobia, struggling to see her attraction to girls. And Isak was taking care of his mum, trying to stay afloat, and trying to come to terms with his attraction to boys as well. They were two tiny messes, and this is probably why they stuck together so much even before starting to do magic together.

“I can see what you mean, and I’m really much better now, with Eva, and here. But, you know.” She taps her fingers on the steering wheel, puts one hand on the gearshift but doesn’t move it. “I miss you,” is what she settles for, in the end. Isak nods.

“I miss you too, even if I’m really happy in Å, bad presence notwithstanding.”

Noora chuckles and stops the car in the driveway. “That fucker will have what it deserves, there’s nothing better than the smudging made with this cedar, trust me. Paolo is a very skilled farmer.”

“Does he live with cedars only?”

Noora nods. “They’re great _etrogim_ , and when Rabbis come here in August, one sells for four thousand euros, more or less.”

Isak chokes on his spit. “That’s—a lot.”

“Makes you want to start growing cedars, right?” Noora elbows him, playfully, and he laughs.

“Just a little bit.”

 

Upon entering the house, Eva reclaims Noora’s mouth and Noora’s body in a way that Isak has to physically refrain to watch because it borders on porn. Instead, he takes his wooden box in his room with a hushed “goodnight!” and throws himself on the bed, too lazy to do anything else, but too awake and energetic to even think about sleeping.

“At least Noora knows what to do with all that energy, innit.” Even looks amused behind Isak’s closed eyelids.

“Don’t even talk about this right now,” Isak puts his head under the pillow. “I just hope I won’t hear them.”

Even laughs. “I mean, you can always rub one off.”

“Christ, can you just—” _shut the fuck up?_

Even laughs again, raising his hand in mock surrender. “As you want, big boss. No sex talk in this holy place.”

Isak makes a face. “It’s already bad that you feel the need to comment on my performances, if you start commenting others’ performance, I’m throwing you away.”

The way Isak sees Even, when he closes his eyes, is on a black background, but almost glowing, like he has some kind of internal light helping him when he’s just in Isak’s mind. “Wouldn’t you feel alone then?”

_More than I could imagine, probably_. Even smiles.

“It’s okay, the good thing is that you’ll always have me, right?”

_Right._

 

**iii**

The first thing that Isak realises upon waking up, is that he’s alone.

Not alone in the room, not alone in the house. Alone in his head.

He gets up hastily, eyes closed, looking frantically in every corner of his mind, trying to reach Even somewhere, but Even disappeared, there’s only an echoing silence stuck in her mind, and he feels really lost for the first time in his life.

He has trouble breathing; he grasps for air, tries to slow down but everything goes too fast, too fast for him, and he spirals down, down, down, without anyone to help him.

“Isak, Isak, please, _breathe_.” There are fresh hands on his temples, on his cheeks, pressing his wrists, and he takes a gasping breath, lying down again, the hands following him.

When he opens his eyes, Even is there.

“What the—” he tries to say, but his voice cracks, and Even hushes him.

“Maybe drink something before speaking, don’t try to do things you can’t do now.”

He’s freakishly _real_ , three-dimensional, and detailed. He’s staring at him, and doesn’t stop when he takes the glass of water that Isak always keeps on the nightstand and makes him take a sip. Isak accepts the offer gratefully, and drinks to chase away the dryness of his throat.

That’s the exact moment when Eva and Noora enter the room.

“What the fuck,” says Eva. “Did you take someone with you yesterday?”

Noora opens her mouth to say something, then seems to think better of it and shakes her head. “I don’t understand,” she says.

Even straightens up and clears his throat. “Uh, nice to meet you. I’m Even.” He looks lanky and awkward, like he’s not used to a corporeal form.

Eva’s expression stays the same, but Noora widens her eyes, suddenly pale. “Even?” she asks. “That Even?”

“I’m afraid it’s that Even, yes.”

Noora swallows. “Well then,” she says. “If you mess up with the cats now I don’t have to get revenge on Isak.”

 

Explaining the situation is a bit of a mess.

They do it in front of an epic breakfast that Noora made expressly for the stressful situation—all sweet, because she took on Italian habits, and Isak had homemade croissants with homemade jam, crêpes, sautéed peaches and homemade strawberry ice cream. It was good, and Isak would have inhaled everything if it wasn’t for the fact that his stomach was definitely upset, and he didn’t know if he could really eat something or not.

Eva had reacted better than Noora, both at the thoughtform news and at the news that Isak’s thoughtform now was a living and breathing human, and was happily munching on her croissant, filled to the brim with ice cream.

(“That’s some aplomb,” commented Even, and Eva just smiled.

“Listen, I had to go through the traumatic revelation that the love of my life was, in fact, a witch, and I survived. Everything can happen in your crazy magic world, what do I know.”)

“So, uh, do you know why—” Noora waves her butter knife in the air. “You know. Why it happened?”

Isak shakes his head. “No idea at all. I just woke up and I didn’t feel—anyone in my mind, and he was there instead.”

“I don’t really sleep, but I do rest,” explains Even. “I just felt really heavy all of a sudden, and I woke up, well. Like this. It was around dawn, and I was looking for a way to wake Isak up when he woke up and panicked.” He cuts a bit of crêpe with the peaches and chews on it like it’s food from heaven. “It’s the best thing I have ever tasted,” he tells Noora.

“It’s the only thing you have ever tasted, more like,” says Isak. “Besides, you would have panicked too in my place.” He still feels brittle and rough, and about to explode. He’s at the very least glad that he didn’t lose Even, but he doesn’t know how to restore a balance that he never needed, being alone with his minds and his thoughts.

“It’s totally understandable,” Noora intervenes. “I mean, this whole… thing—” she makes air quotes “—is exactly why I never wanted a thoughtform, even if the concept sounded good.”

Even snorts at that. “I remember Isak trying to convince you, oh my god. When was it? Second year of high school?”

Eva perks up. “During the whole fiasco with your ex?” she asks, and at Noora’s affirmative nod she rolls her eyes. “That was a though time, lord. I was hooking up with _Penetrator Chris_ , do you remember it.”

“You were a cute couple,” Noora comments. “Granted, I like having you with me at all times, but you were a cute couple.”

Eva shakes her head. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“You mean you didn’t tell me everything that passed for your mind when you were going out with him?”

Isak looks at Even, who’s not listening to them anymore, choosing instead to eat his breakfast with an expression resembling the Ecstasy of Saint Theresa. He’s currently tasting the half-melted ice cream mixed with the jam and put on the croissant, and he makes a honest to god moan when he does. Isak feels really awkward.

 

“So, what do… how do… what the fuck do we do now?”

Even looks at him, and he’s wearing Isak’s clothes that are just the right amount of short on him to make it even more awkward, and shrugs. “I literally have no idea. How do we go back to Norway if I don’t have documents?”

“I don’t even want to think about that now. Please. I just want to think about why the fuck it happened and, I don’t know.” Maybe it’s something reversible, maybe it’s something that can be solved.

Maybe it’s something that Even doesn’t want to solve.

“It feels weird not knowing what you’re thinking,” blurts Even. Isak nods.

“It’s like a communication channel that closed. It makes me feel a bit like I’m drowning.”

They lie on the bed a bit, Isak keeping his breathing in check, Even looking at him, always looking at him. They’re touching as much as possible in the stifling heat of the room, and Isak feels glad that at least this one was an improvement, the fact that he can now touch someone who’s been with him since he can remember.

“How do you feel being corporeal?”

“It’s—” Even bites his bottom lip, then intertwines his fingers with Isak’s, looking at their hands. “Weird. Sometimes it’s a bad weird, like when I can’t listens to your thoughts. And sometimes it’s a good weird, like when I can touch you.”

“Or taste food.”

“Or taste food,” Even agrees, smiling.

Isak sighs. “These are the moments in which I wish there was some sort of magical society. Why does magic have to be this anarchic?”

“Probably so that Jonas can complain about not being allowed to do magic.”

At that, Isak laughs. “He was always allowed to participate to rituals, asshole. He’s just not able to make things work properly.”

They celebrated the Sabbath all together in high school, at least the eight major ones, because it was cool, and it was an occasion in which smoking weed could be considered ritual. His friends loved it.

“Speaking of which,” Isak scratches his chin. “It’s probably something that has to do with the fact that it was Solstice last night?”

Even nods. “I mean, could absolutely be. I don’t know. You’re the witch here.”

“I just have the Spark, I’m no witch.”

“They all say that.”

They chuckle a bit, together, and then Isak brings his head on Even’s shoulder.

They’ll get through it.

 

**iv**

“You’re attached at the hips,” Tells him Eva. “Not that I’m judging you because oh boy, he looks so damn fine. But, Isak, are you okay?”

Isak looks at Even and Noora skipping rocks at the edge of the water, and bites into his _frittata di maccheroni_. “I don’t know,” he says, mouth still half full of food.

Eva raises an eyebrow.

“Maybe we’re using physical closeness to replace the fact that he was basically a piece of my mind, I don’t know.”

Eva pops a cherry tomato in her mouth and chews it slowly. “And how is it?”

“I don’t know. Different.” Isak takes one cherry tomato for himself. “It’s good that we’re able to touch, it’s something I couldn’t have imagined doing, honestly.”

On the water’s edge, Even falls face first on the sand because Noora gave him a light push. He sputters a bit, indignantly, and sprays water in Noora’s face in retaliation. Isak closes his eyes, smiling a bit. He can hear them bickering, and he can hear the cicadas over the light noise of the sea. The cicadas are like a background noise in everything they do during the day now. He’s almost getting used to it.

“Do you want to go swimming a bit?” When Isak opens his eyes, Eva is putting down her hair, ready to go. Isak shakes his head.

“I’m fine here, thanks,” he says.

The sea makes him lazy. The beach is the only place where it’s possible to stay during the day without dying from a heatstroke, because the always-present light breeze and the fresh water breach a bit the suffocating humidity, but still, Isak does nothing more than lying on the sand all day, with the occasional dip, half-sleeping and half-reading. He doesn’t feel ready to be as active as the others are, doesn’t know how they do it.

“Everything okay?” He feels Even before he sees him, because he recognises his presence now, and because he starts dropping water on Isak. When he opens his eyes, Even is looking at him.

“Yeah, just—lazy, you know.”

Even nods, and sits on Isak’s towel, fresh body making Isak shiver a bit because of the contact. He stops looking at Isak for a second, reaches for the _frittata di maccheroni_ , munching away happily. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he says.

“You’re saying this for everything you’re eating these days, Even.”

“That’s because Noora is an amazing cook.”

Isak snorts, and makes a bit of space for Even to lie beside him. He shivers when Even does, feels Even’s breath on his ear. “You’re cold,” he complains instead.

When Even laughs, the tickling of his ear intensifies. “As if you would complain in this heat, honestly.” He envelops him in a hug, all lanky limbs and fresh water, and Isak shivers again, swallows around the lump in his throat.

He doesn’t even banter back, because he doesn’t trust his voice now. He just lets out a shaky breath, and snuggles a bit into even, his stomach doing somersaults.

Even, bless him, doesn’t say anything.

 

“You can just cancel the flight,” Says Noora. Isak jumps.

“You scared me,” he murmurs, and she smiles slyly.

“I just saw you having a crisis in the terrace, I thought I’d bring you a glass of _cedrata_.”

Isak accepts the glass gratefully, sips it slowly, closing his eyes. “I don’t want to leave him here, but I don’t know what do with him, since he’s without documents.”

“Borders are a shitty invention,” agrees Noora. “This is why I was telling you that you could just cancel and wait for a solution, you know.” She sips at her own _cedrata_ , looking at the panorama pensively. “You’re one of the closest people I have, Isak. I would never complain about having you here.”

“I know.” Isak sighs, rubs tiredly at his eyes. “Thank you for the offer, I’ll think about it.”

 

**v**

It’s hot that night, hotter than usual, and Isak can’t sleep.

Even is half asleep beside him, wearing only Isak’s boxer briefs, and Isak just wishes he could lie on the floor because at least it’s fresh, at least he can leech off the freshness of it, but he’s sure that if he does he’s going to regret it tomorrow morning, when he’ll wake up with a deep ache in his back.

He tosses and turns on the too-warm sheets, tries to find the right position to rest a bit, sighs deeply, sees Even watching him.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” he whispers, and Even shakes his head, eyes still at half-mast.

“You didn’t, don’t worry. It’s too hot to sleep.” His voice is rough and full of sleep, and Isak could listen to it his whole life.

Hopes he will listen to it his whole life.

“Do you want to get out of the room?” Even asks, and Isak shakes his head.

“No, I’m too lazy to get up.”

Even hums, then lightly caresses Isak’s sides, making him shiver. They’re close, so, so impossibly close because the bed is small, and Isak feels weird, even weirder than before, has trouble breathing when Even is so close. “I didn’t imagine being corporeal would feel like this,” Says Even after a bit of lying in silence. Isak wants to laugh, but what comes out is a shaky sigh.

“I can get used to you being corporeal, honestly,” he confesses, and Even smiles, sly and cat-like.

“Even in this heat?”

“That’s something I should ask to you,”

Even rolls his eyes. “Even in this heat,” he says, though. “I like being able to touch you.”

Isak scoots closer to Even, despite the heat. “Yeah,” he murmurs, and his voice almost breaks even on a small syllable. He doesn’t speak more.

Even’s breath is hitting his lips, and his gaze is fixed on Isak. He places a hand on his neck, squeezes lightly, contemplatively. “You know what being corporeal allows me?” he asks, voice trembling a bit.

Isak doesn’t trust himself with words, and just shakes his head.

“To do something that I’ve always wanted to do, since I can remember.” He closes his eyes, squeezes Isak’s neck again, and kisses him.

The room seems to get even hotter, and everything is slowed down and all his focus is channelled on Even’s lips, plump and soft, moving slowly on his. Isak moans desperately and attaches himself on Even’s body, wanting to be closer, closer, closer, even when it’s almost impossible to breathe because it’s so hot.

When they detach, Even caresses his cheeks and smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corner. “That was the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he says, and Isak chuckles.

“If you say it again I’ll knee you in the balls,” he tells him.

They keep kissing for a while, and for the first time since the Solstice Isak doesn’t feel off-balance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

( **mcviii**

“I can’t believe you managed to do it, honestly.” Noora smiles up at him, her hands deep down in tomatoes sliced so she can dry them in the sun. “I thought you would have been in Å forever.”

Isak shrugs, throws the keys to his new home in the air and catches them with the other hand. “Even wanted to come back, and I realised there was nothing holding me there. I can help you with your job, here.”

“We can finally be a coven.” Noora laughs, then waves her knife in the air. “Go and wash your hands, you’re going to help me with these tomatoes.”

Isak obliges.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Idk if some of you is following my long fic, but the final chapter Is Coming, I promise!! It's just that the challenge had a deadline and the story doesn't, so I prioritised this one. But it's coming!
> 
> If you liked the story (or you need recipes for the food in this story :P) feel free to comment or shoot me a message on [tumblr](http://nooradeservedbetter.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Astrea117)!


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